Passages
by Iverinde
Summary: Five years later, the Opera Populaire is up and running again.  It's resident Opera Ghost is too.  Will history repeat itself?  Better  and longer  summary inside.


Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera.

**Post Date****: 7/24/10**

**AN: I probably shouldn't be posting this, seeing as I have two in-progress stories already and I haven't been too quick about updating them. But I'm going to post this anyway. Isn't that what we all do? Oh, and I'm not sure whether this will be a prologue or Chapter One.**

_Summary__:_ _Five years after the Don Juan disaster, the Opera Populaire has reopened, and spending a night in Christine Daaé's dressing room has become a sort of rite of passage for chorus girls. When Claire Laroche's time comes, the Phantom of the Opera hears her singing a lullaby and becomes the Angel of Music once again._

_Prologue OR Chapter I_

Our story begins at the Opera Populaire in Paris, France. It was late at night, but all the chorus girls in the dormitories were wide awake listening to seventeen year old Rosalie Girard tell one of her stories. This story, even though some of them had heard it before, was even more exciting than others for the reason that it was real and had happened right here, at the Opera Populaire…

"… After the fire, which he himself had caused, the Phantom of the Opera wasn't seen for a while. Many thought he had disappeared. The Opera was repaired, and productions started up again. But soon enough, he made his reappearance. The Phantom declared that this was still _his_ opera house—so he was waiting for his salary, and we were still to meet his demands about how the place is run. There were enough returning people- ones who had lived, performed, worked at the Opera Populaire before the fire, and therefore fully believed in the Opera Ghost- that the others were quickly convinced to appease the Phantom without the need for any more disasters. And so it has been, and remains so, even to this day."

Silence greeted the end of the tale. One of the younger chorus girls looked around fearfully. She was fifteen year old Ariane Moreau, a very superstitious girl—especially where the Opera Ghost was concerned.

"You said Joseph Buquet was killed by the Phantom for talking about him," she whispered. "How do you know he won't come for us now?"

Rosalie laughed quietly. "Monsieur Buquet was making fun of the Phantom, ridiculing him. I am not. I told the story as Meg told it to me—and her mother knows the Phantom, so if this tale is making fun of anyone, it is surely not the Phantom." Ariane looked a little comforted. "Anyway, I've told this one before, and nothing has happened."

"But I've never heard it before!" little fourteen year old Demi Fournier protested. She was the youngest, and therefore newest, chorus girl.

"That's because you're new," Rosalie said. "You came after the last time I told it."

"I haven't heard it either, though! And I've been here longer than Demi," Ariane said.

"And you used to always fall asleep before I told my stories, remember? It wasn't until Demi came that you started staying up late. You two probably wouldn't get any sleep if us older girls didn't make you!" Rosalie said.

Demi still looked puzzled. "You usually don't repeat stories—why have you told this one more than once?"

"This story is part of a tradition of sorts. After you turn seventeen, you have to spend a night in Christine Daaé's dressing room—she's one of the ones who didn't come back to the Opera after the fire. She was a very lucky chorus girl—the prima donna refused to perform once and Christine got to sing in her stead. So, we all spend a night in there, and hope some of her luck rubs off on us—that we might get to perform in place of a prima donna someday! And rumor has it the Phantom was very interested in her career, so… we always tell this story the night before one of us goes to spend her night," Rosalie explained. "I think I've told it three times—four if you count tonight."

"Who has spent their night already?"

"Me," said Melisande Bernard. She was eighteen, and the biggest and strongest of the chorus girls. She was also the eldest, besides Meg Giry. But Meg was practically a featured dancer now, so not really part of the ballet chorus.

"I have," Isabelle Michel said. She had just turned eighteen. The daughter of a priest, she had brought a whole flask of holy water with her on her night in case the Phantom had appeared.

"_If that dreadful Phantom gets anywhere near me, he's getting a faceful of holy water—that should send him away!" Isabelle had said. Melisande, had then laughed._

"I can't imagine water doing much to a powerful thing like him—I'd just punch him in the face and be done with it!" she said. Melisande and Isabelle were friends, but they loved to poke fun at each other.

"And I as well," Rosalie said.

"Who is it that's going tomorrow?" Demi asked.

"Me," Claire Laroche said quietly. She had turned seventeen a while ago, but her mother died soon after and Claire had gone away for a while to go to the funeral and get affairs in order. When she had returned from all this, she had been very upset and uncharacteristically quiet. Now, while not back to her prior vivacity, she was beginning to joke around and smile again. "It's taken me long enough, has it not?"

"I'll say!" Aurelie Laurent cried. She was best friends with Claire and was very happy to see Claire becoming happy again. "And not just with spending your night, also with-"

She stopped short, hearing noise from the hallway.

"It's the Phantom!" Demi cried. Ariane squeaked and dove under her bedcovers.

"Don't be silly, you two! The Phantom wouldn't be using the hallway; he has secret passages!" Noelle Rousseau said. She was a bright and bubbly sixteen year old. "And I don't think the Phantom would be making that much noise—he knows how to be silent."

Demi looked embarrassed at this. Ariane peeked out from under her blankets. She didn't look entirely convinced.

Everyone was silent as the noise, footsteps, from the hallway grew louder, then stopped.

"There's someone at the door," Ariane whimpered. The doorknob turned.

"What are you all still doing up?" Meg Giry said. There was a sigh of relief from Ariane and Demi. Meg frowned. "Even I'm only up this late because of extra practice for _Coppélia_."

"Ooh, yes, how is that going?" Noelle asked excitedly, completely ignoring Meg's admonition. Meg sighed.

"Rehearsals are going well. Monsieur Leveque is pleased, even my mother is pleased, which means we must be doing well," Meg said.

"If you are doing so well, why are you having these extra rehearsals?" Noelle questioned again.

"My mother wants it to be absolutely perfect. She wants my solo debut flawless," Meg said. Since opening up again, the Opera Populaire had also started performing ballets. Meg was dancing Swanilda, the lead, in the upcoming production of _Coppélia_.

"I'm sure you'll do wonderfully," Aurelie said. Meg smiled.

"I'm glad you think so," she said. Then she put her hands on her hips and looked at all the chorus girls. "Now, it's really time all of us went to bed."

There were good natured groans around the room. All the same, the girls heeded Meg's command and there was a rustling of bedcovers as they all climbed in.

Soon there was silence, except for the sound of Meg moving around getting herself ready for bed. Then even Meg was in bed, and all the Opera Populaire was asleep.

Except one.

**The second half of this seems forced to me. That's probably because I had (have) writer's block and wrote that through it. I kind of pushed it out. So, yeah… tell me what you think. You don't have to though. I won't beg for reviews or hold chapters hostage and demand review ransoms. It's just nice to get reviews. And I accept flames. Well, not accept, but if that's the review you feel inspired to give, I'll take it.**

**Claire and the Phantom are both getting background chapters. That's why there wasn't too much focus on their actual persons in this.**

**Oh, and where we come in when Rosalie is telling the Phantom of the Opera story is not the beginning of her tale. Just making that clear.**


End file.
